


Supernatural Sleuthing

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M, superlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John find a wet, shivering former angel on their doorstep. Adventures ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural Sleuthing

Sherlock paces back and forth, only stopping to look out the window or check his watch every few minutes. Finally, John has had enough.

"What could you _possibly_ be waiting for?" he asks, exasperated. He joins Sherlock in looking out into the dark, stormy night. Sherlock shrugs.

"I don't know. Something to happen, I suppose." John raises an eyebrow. "It just feels like that kind of night." John huffs.

"Sherlock, _nobody's_ out in this weather. If nobody's out, nothing's going to h-" A knock at the door cuts him off. Sherlock grins triumphantly, poking his tongue out at the shorter man, before all but running down the stairs. He throws the door open to find a shivering man, soaked to the bone.

He's wearing a trenchcoat, white shirt, and crooked blue tie (all dirty), and he has a day or two's worth of stubble. Obviously, at one point he cared about his appearance, but something happened to make that a low priority. His blue eyes flit around nervously, wondering if he is safe. So someone's after him. He's folding his arms tightly to his chest, rocking a bit on his heels. He's broken, spiritually and/or emotionally. And something, though Sherlock doesn't know what, makes him seem very. . . unnatural. Sherlock grabs the poor man's arm, having decided that he's safe, and gently tugs him inside.

"How can we help you?" asks John, handing him a clean fluffy towel. The man gratefully wraps it around his shoulders, jumping at a sudden crash of thunder. He begins to speak in a gravelly voice.

"T-th-thank you," he says through chattering teeth. "I kn-know this m-may seem like an-n unus-sual question, b-but where a-am I?" Sherlock stares at him in confusion before answering.

"221B Baker Street in London." He smiles slightly after lightning flashes across the ink black sky. "You're lucky we're so nice. You could catch hypothermia out there. Why _were_ you out there, anyway?" The man blinks, obviously just now considering that particular outcome.

"O-oh. Right," he replies. "I just woke up across the street." John furrows his brow in worry.

"Well, I'm glad we're able to help," he says uncertainly. "What's your name?" Sherlock nods, for the first time since Irene puzzled by another person.

"Castiel."

"Okay Castiel. Tell us everything."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dean stares at the number on his phone. It's called twice, but he doesn't recognize it. If it rings again, he decides, then he'll answer it. It rings for a third time.

"Hullo," he answers gruffly.

"Erm, hi," says the voice on the other end. At first he thinks it's either Balthazar or Crowley, but only the accent is the same. The voice is quite pleasant sounding, actually. "Is this Dean Winchester?"

"Who wants to know?" he snaps.

"John Watson. Uh, your friend Castiel showed up on me and my boyfriend's doorstep. He said to call you." Dean swallows harshly. "He told us everything." John pauses. "Angels and demons, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean replies. "I swear, we're not crazy!" John chuckles.

"We can tell," he says. "Sherlock- my boyfriend- is what he calls a 'consulting detective. He can tell when someone is lying. Or, you know, mad." Dean laughs.

"Okay, well if Cas told you everything, did he tell you why he can't just mojo himself over here?" he asks.

"He said his Grace was drained by Metatron. He's human." Dean gasps softly. "He needs you to come get him. We can pay for plane tickets if need be." His stomach twists at the thought of flying.

"No, that's fine. My brother Sam and I will be there soon. Uh... where are you?" he asks.

"London. 221B Baker Street." Dean sighs, running a hand through his short hair.

"Okay. We'll be there soon."

 


End file.
